


Claws and Curses

by mina_grey_writes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Original Work
Genre: (probably a lot of it), (sorta) - Freeform, 19 years later, Abandonment Issues, Cannibalism Puns, Death Eaters, F/M, Forbidden Love, Gen, Good Death Eaters, Hogwarts, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Cannibalism, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Squibs, Unforgivable Curses (Harry Potter), Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22338688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mina_grey_writes/pseuds/mina_grey_writes
Summary: Even after the death of Lord Voldemort, the Wizarding War rages on. A devoted follower who made it out of trials unscathed gathers up the ruined pureblood families to create a new order of Death Eaters. Among these families are the proud Romanescus and the influential Rosewoods, both of which are thrilled to regain the power and influence they once had. But what happens when the disgraced, lost daughter of the Rosewoods is found by the perfect son of the Romanescus? Family secrets emerge, unpleasant to both sides, and children wonder what side they should truly be on.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Rowan Romanescu/Lorelei “Nifty” Rosewood





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue:** “The best way of keeping a secret is to pretend there isn‘t one” —Margaret Atwood

The forest was more home to her than any structure had been. Of course, there were far off memories of a grandiose mansion and the elegant people inside of it, but she could hardly call that a home. Not when those people were the ones who threw her out into the wilderness in the first place. She thought of those people as nothing but cold phantoms, even though something inside her attempted to remind her that the pair in her memories weren’t just strangers. They were her mother and father. The two people who, supposedly, were supposed to love her unconditionally abandoned her because of her condition.

Her condition? Having been bitten by the werewolf Fenrir Greyback as a young child, cursed to transform into a wolf at every full moon.

She tried not to think about it much. It only brought her sorrow to do so, and that sorrow only slowed her down in a landscape where survival meant being quick and ever alert. Animals, other feral werewolves, and human hunters all posed a threat to her. Even with monstrous strength and human intellect on her side, she was near the bottom of the food chain. Perhaps in that sense her parents were right in their decision. She understood the importance of survival, and she had put them all in danger by being there...

She’d made it thirteen years on her own, and was now a young woman is eighteen. It’d been a rocky journey from scared child to capable huntress, but she knew it was all for the best, even if she was worse for wear. Now, she could prowl in peace of mind, knowing she could at least give any rival a run for their money.

And that exactly was why she wasn’t afraid when she heard the rustling of leaves and the snapping of twigs underfoot. Instead, she was ready for a fight if need be, and she had reason to believe it was a possibility; there was a rhythm of two steps and an out of place musk that smelled distinctly artificial, and that was enough to clue her in that the intruder was human. Not only that, but they were close. She was practically staring down the barrel of their gun. Assuming they had a gun. But, really, what would a human being doing at this hour except for hunting? So, she thought it safe to assume that this person did have a gun. Preparing to defend herself, she began stalking the area around which she heard the footsteps, careful to be light enough on her own feet as not to cause suspicion on the human’s end. She saw a wisp of blood red and a flash of black. This person made no attempt to hide. Either they were minding their own business, or they were confident in their own abilities. Somehow, the werewolf doubted it was the former.

With a wave of defensive fury, she ran to leap at the human, successfully catching them off guard and tackling them to the ground. The figure underneath her wriggled, managing to get onto their back and look up at the one attacking them.

The intruder was certainly male, but there was a moment of doubt on how human he really was. Almost matching his blood red hair that rested upon his shoulders, his eyes were an angry scarlet, even when they were filled to the brim with confusion. She’d never seen a human with such eyes... but then again, her experience in the world of men was limited, so perhaps this was simply rare.

“Were you raised with any semblance of manners?” He growled indignantly, though she couldn’t help but think his growl sounded a bit more like a pup’s yapping. “I meant you no harm, you bloody idiot! What happened to asking one to state their intentions before you go to maul them?”

Even with his words, she wasn’t about to let up. She was still wary about his intentions. “And give you a chance to put a gun to my head? Give you the upper hand in this encounter. Well, I’m not some dumb woodland creatures you can just shoot at without any fighting back. No, like this, I have the upper hand. And now you answer to me.”

Perhaps she was reveling too much about being on top for once, as soon, the red-headed man took something out of a pocket and pointed it out her. A stick? “A Romanescu answers to no one. _Confundo!_ ”

And just like that, the werewolf was knocked back, freeing the man trapped beneath her. He got up, pointing the stick— no, _wand_ —back at her again. “Tell me who you are, wolf. And while you’re at it... tell me why you thought I was about to attack you.” Despite being near ordered to respond, her mind was in another place. Once again, she was focusing on his face, but now, she saw the shadow that painted his cheekbone. Even though he was trying to seem intimidating by waving his wand around, he really was just a pup. A hurt little pup, trying to keep himself safe. Maybe, just maybe, if he knew that she saw that, they could both leave unscathed and under a truce. Unsteadily, she got to her feet. It seemed the man got worried over this, as he brandished his wand further in her direction “Stay back! D-don’t take a step closer, mongrel! Just answer my question.”

And now that she had her wits about her (or at least as close as they could be), she could answer him this time. “My name’s Lorelei. Other wolves call me Nifty, though. _This_ is my hunting grounds. After so many times of having hunters attempt to shoot me while I’m minding my own business, I think I have the right to be quick to judge a human’s intentions when they’re wandering around here so late at night.” After a moment of glaring at him, she sighed and shook her head. “But you’re okay, now. I get why you’re here, and I know it has nothing to do with me. Sometimes you have to get away and lick your wounds. I understand. But I imagine it’s a bit more difficult for you.”

The wand dropped, and his free hand wavered a moment before it gingerly touched the purpling skin. “That isn’t your concern.” Clearly, he was trying to be tough, but was more hurt than he let on. She wouldn’t press. This wasn’t her place, after all, even if it was eerily reminiscent of her own human life years and years ago. Crossing his arms over his chest, the boy looked around, desperate to take the awkward enough conversation away from him and his bruises. “My gods, who would want to live in some dirty old forest like this? Wouldn’t you rather live in a house or something a bit more civilized?”

“You’re changing the subject and trying to get it away from you,” Nifty pointed out. That didn’t earn her much more than a sarcastic sneer in return. “But honestly? Maybe I would like living in a house better, but I don’t know. I haven’t since I was five, so I don’t remember much. My parents just dropped me here when I was a kid.”

Somewhere behind red eyes there was a twinge of pity, or at least there seemed to be. Was Nifty imagining it, or was it really there? “Well, if you wish to know what living in a real home is like, rather than a cave... ...I suppose my parents wouldn’t mind if I took you in. It is nice to have a werewolf around.” She went to protest, both because of the unknown origin of his injury and his quick turnaround in opinion. “This isn’t kindness, Miss Lorelei. My parents are in need of redemption in the eyes of many, and I’m sure our leader would be most pleased with them acquiring the likes of you. I’ll let them take the credit of finding you.”

The werewolf cringed, but at the same time, she wondered if being there would protect the little red pup. Even is she didn’t know him, and he was a bit of an asshole, she understood his plight. And who knew? Maybe he’d be better once she got to know him. “Sure. I’ll go with you.”

“That wasn’t an offer, you know. That was an order,” the redhead grumbled, reaching out a pale hand to her. Nifty frowned before putting her calloused hand in his. There was no hesitation after that for him to start leading her away, acting more as if he was dragging her along than leading her by the hand.

“So,” she said suddenly, causing her reluctant companion to turn to her with a confused and almost startled look. “What am I supposed to call you? You said you were a _Romanescu_ , but I guess there’s going to be a few of those around if I’m going to your family.”

Her question made him huff in frustration, but yet, he answered it. “My name is Rowan. My friends call me Ro, but since you are not my friend, I would ask you not to,” he said primly.

“Noted. Rowan. Not Ro. If I call you Ro, then I did,” she responded, rolling her eyes at him.

“Don’t laugh at me! I am in charge of you now, after all.”

“Yes, Rowan, and I’m sure this will all work out _exactly_ to your plan.”


	2. Four years later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years after Rowan takes Nifty home, the Third Wizarding War truly begins. Tensions raise as Nifty is asked to become what she hates and Rowan is asked to invade the home of his youth, Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief trigger warning for those this would apply to: there is quite a bit of emotional manipulation in this chapter, as well as a depiction of some rather violent self-mutilation as a result of said verbal abuse. Be safe, loves. Also I have no idea why I made a bunch of Shakespeare references in this chapter, but here we are.

**Chapter One:** “Loyalty isn’t grey. It’s black and white. You’re either loyal completely, or not loyal at all.” —Sharnay

Nifty awoke to the now familiar scent of artificial musk and woods. It near enveloped her like the sheets cocooned tightly around her, making her feel at home. It was strange to think that four years ago that scent was a warning sign to her, but now it was something comforting... she was learning the different intricacies of the scents humans put on themselves, and she already knew this particular blend well. The edge of spices like myrrh and ginger on earthy sandalwood meant it could only be one person.

“Lorelei?” The voice was soft, much softer than the first time she heard it. Even though she knew why he was there, she didn’t move to get up. She didn’t move at all. From behind her, she heard him step closer. “Nifty, wake up.” Again, she did not move, but this time she may have been doing so more out of defiance than anything else. A hand landed upon her shoulder and pushed. Not hard, but it was a bit less gentle than a simple nudge. “Dammit Wolfie, you have to be awake at this point.”

Even if she wanted to continue her game, that was too funny did her not to laugh aloud in response. Rowan sighed in relief as her protest was over, and Nifty rolled onto her other side to look at him. “Good morning, sweet prince.” In response, all he could do was shake his head. “Sleep well?”

“I could hardly tell you at this point, since I’ve been up for hours, and all the while, you have been lounging in bed like a spoiled lap dog,” he replied sarcastically. It was clearly a joke, as it was known between them that she was far from spoiled. Her being able to sleep was simply a byproduct of the family not looking at her as a person, and so not wanting her around. With that in mind, the werewolf in his bed giggled and pouted in retaliation, clearly enjoying his response.

“Oh, poor darling,” she cooed, though sleep was still thick in her voice with every word she spoke. Her arms stretched towards him, and she wiggled her fingers in grabby-hands, beckoning him to her. His first reaction was simply to took at her with a raised brow and folded arms, so she decided she needed to take her persuasion up a notch. “I’m sure you have a moment to spare before you’re needed again... lie down with me, dear.” And that seemed to be the magic phrase that caused him to break, for as soon as she had finished speaking, the redhead laid himself down beside her, robes pooling in inky puddles on the bed, his hair a scarlet halo. Happy with this development, Nifty scooted closer and laid her head upon his chest. He was cold compared to her, and her thought every time, from the moment she first took his hand, was to try and warm him up; however, that was just the difference between a human’s body temperature and a werewolf’s, so no attempts to warm him ever really could.

Rowan smiled slightly, but not much at all. Nifty couldn’t help but notice even the smallest smiles he gave made him look like he was in pain or that he wasn’t quite sure how to. It was strange. Unnatural, almost. And yet all the same, she enjoyed them, as after four years in this home, she learned that nothing— not jokes, not favorite songs, not even torturing people —could make a Romanescu smile. All the born Romanescus were stone-faced with blood red eyes and crimson hair to match. Red death. There was more variation in the spouses, but those differences almost never passed on to the children... yet still, even the spouses too were too icy to show emotion past disdain. So, Rowan’s smile was rare. It was a blessing. Her own smile growing, the brunette lifted herself up to be eye level with him, and then she leaned down to peck his lips. The smile dropped, his brows furrowing.

“You shouldn’t do that. Not now,” he intoned, though he reached out his own near-translucent hand to run his fingers across her full cheek, over the slashing scars that made their home there. Seeing how she frowned confusedly, he decided he needed to elaborate. “What happens at night is all fine as no one will know, but in broad daylight? Who knows who could walk in on us, Lorelei?”

She sighed, “you shouldn’t live your whole life in fear of them. You’re twenty-four years old. You’re a grown man, for gods’ sake.”

“But don’t you understand? They would take their wrath out on you this time, not me! You’d be the mongrel that seduced the brightest child and the heir; I would only be the hapless victim of your wiles in this circumstance.”

Though this was a very serious conversation, she still ended up giving a snort. “Wiles?” Not happy with how she wasn’t taking this seriously, he wormed out of her grasp and out of bed. “Hey! I was only teasing.”

“This is no laughing matter! You must understand that! They’d string you up without a moment’s hesitation! Keep you alive in the dungeons and wait until a full moon to kill you, simply to make your fur into some cloak!” It took some time, but eventually, Rowan did calm himself from his panic. Straightening out his robes, he held out a hand to her. “Come along. Father had told me to bring you downstairs for a meeting if sorts before you distracted me away.”

Nifty sat up and stretched, completely ignoring Rowan’s gesture to help her up as she got up. Seeing she wasn’t fit to be seen by his family in her current state, he pulled out his wand, waving it to change her clothes. The much-too-big shirt that she used as a nightgown faded away into a dated sort of style that would still allow the wolf to not feel trapped. Her braids straightened and tightened on their own. Twirling around to admire the wizard’s handiwork ( _wand-i-work?_ She wondered), she grabbed her signature flat cap and placed it upon her head. Giving him a toothy grin, she decided to tease him a little. “Well? Will I disgrace you like this, Rowan dear?”

He rolled his eyes. “It will do. You’re beautiful, but not up to my family’s standards. Not that you ever will be, being a so-called beast. ...not that I can live up to their standards as their kin and a human, but I at least won’t be killed if I make the wrong move. Or at least I hope not. He was rambling, and that made him blush a little. “Now come.” His robes fanned out as he turned dramatically, turning and walking out the door. The werewolf was quick to follow. Even if something in her really compelled her to, she did not go up to him to walk by his side and take his hand, instead following behind. Now out from behind closed doors, she was more apt to agree that they needed to keep their feelings for one another private. Though she wasn’t concerned for her sake; she was concerned for him, and what hell he would go through.

As they came down the stairs, they were greeted by the stern face of Rowan’s father. Ares Romanescu was a proud sort of man, who always kept his nose in the air, eyes like rubies judging everything around him. Especially Nifty. “Good. The young lady is common, as usual. So we shan’t mind if she gets dirty.” The young lady in question was too afraid to mention that the white shirt she was wearing was one of her favorites. Especially with the suspenders and dressy shorts she wore. He wouldn’t care anyways. “So we can begin.”

He was a broad sort of man, his skin more olive than that of his son, wrinkles setting into his face. He was an older gentleman already when Rowan was born, so at this point he was growing quite old. His hair was longer than Rowan’s, and the deep red was being replaced by white, leaving an almost pink hue on his overall head. Not that such a thought should ever be said aloud. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill whoever tried to make him seem less intimidating than he was. He brought to mind mad kings and the unnatural look of someone after an aging potion.

He was the Caesar to Lorelei’s Cassius. He was King Lear and Rowan was all three daughters, constantly waffling between fear, hate, and loving him _as a son should_.

The old man turned away, beckoning the two into another room. “What was it that took you so long in trying to wake up the mutt, my son?” In response, the younger wizard made a scathing comment on how stubborn Nifty was, attempting to cover up hid fondness. It fooled his father well enough. Doors opened to a great room where many darkly dressed people sat, many of them with the same wine red hair and eyes of Ares and Rowan, but the majority were simply strange in a “normal” way. Or at least as normal as a death eater could be. Ares directed Rowan where to sit, and Rowan pulled Nifty along by the wrist to have her sit beside him. They sat close, their thighs touching under the table, but no one seemed to notice. At the head of the table, on opposite sides, were Ares and his elder sister. Hera Grimaldi, once Hera Romanescu, was an elegant sort of old woman, cruel and calculating and certainly more _there_ than her younger brother. She was the one in charge of the family.

Hera stood, a proud matriarch, her hair still a sheet of red despite her age. “Friends, family, fellow purebloods... servants...” the werewolf could feel the matriarch’s eyes upon her as that word was spoken. Rowan comfortingly placed a hand upon her knee. Again, no one noticed, so Hera went on. “Our dear, young leader has asked me to debrief my relations, and well as my nearby friends. We are not in the center of the action, but we may do our part. And we have a surprisingly valuable asset among us, so it would seem! My dear nephew?”

Her son, Rudyard, looked offended, hoping that he would have been the one to be assigned this mission. On the other hand, Rowan, as well as his cousins Apollo and Rory, all looked up attentively. “The child of my eldest brother. Rowan,” Hera clarified. The young wizard couldn’t help but look nervous at whatever this would mean. His right hand reached inside his left sleeve, touching the raised skin on the Dark Mark there on his forearm.

“Yes, Aunt?” He replied, looking at her intently. Hera smiled, mistaking his respectfulness for reverence for this responsibility.

“While we all may have scoffed when you rescued that little _fleabag_ , she finally has a purpose. So, if you would allow her to be used, she would be our perfect weapon for our latest mission.”

Suddenly, Rowan’s nerves turned to something else entirely: confusion. “Wouldn’t make the most sense if I took her on this mission? I know her the best, and so would be the best at handling her.”

The entire table seemed to laugh at that question, causing pale skin to heat and turn pink. It seemed like such a non-option to them, and frankly, he didn’t understand why.

“Son, we understand your... condition. You’re simply not strong enough, especially to handle her during a full moon _without_ her wolfsbane potion! Not to mention how likely you’d be to freeze on your end of the mission. You aren’t our warrior by any means; let your cousins take the girl so she and the mission are in more competent hands,” Ares commented. While it was hardly noticeable to anyone else, Lorelei could see the tears glistening in the young redhead’s eyes.

Yet, instead of letting out sobs from being hurt (even though he was tempted to do so), Rowan blinked back his tears and grit his teeth. “Weak?!” He snarled, turning his pain into anger. He was angry over being underestimated. “I am not weak! I am perfectly strong!”

Apollo snorted. “You have to bring your _emotional support dog_ to a meeting!”

Fury in his eyes, the younger man silently vowed to make his cousin eat his words. “I was told to bring her! I am not weak! I’ll show you how strong I am!” And without missing a beat, he reached into an inside pocket for his robe and pulled out a dagger. He showed it to the family for a moment, letting it glitter in the light, before turning it around towards him. Suddenly and without warning, Rowan slammed his hand down, a sickening squelch filling the room. His hand and the dagger came back up, both covered in blood. Nifty looked down to see black pants growing darker and red running down his thigh and onto the white marble floor. It was disgusting. It was horrifying, most likely more so since this was her Rowan ego had hurt himself in such a way. It made her want to tear Ares Romanescu’s throat out with her teeth. In the meantime, her love had barely even flinched at the pain. “Who’s weak now?!” He cried desperately, looking around in an almost crazed way as he awaited a response.

Hera looked shocked, scarlet eyes looking at the growing puddle of blood almost in fear. Whether it was fear for the boy or fear of what he’d be capable of if turned against them... even she wasn’t quite sure. “Y-you have certainly made your point, Rowan dear... you are stronger than we all expected. That being said, you be the one to take your little pet. The two of you are going to Hogwarts next full moon. Let her nosh on some mudbloods! Maybe bite a few of the children of blood traitors if you like! But make sure she won’t get caught, my boy. That is your job. Get her in, and keep the secret of her existence a secret. She is, after all, our hidden weapon now.” If Rowan could have gotten any paler, this would be how. Lorelei, too, grew unnaturally pale. Clearly neither of them were thrilled by this assignment they were given. But the would not dare day it now, since the boy had fought tooth and nail, even stabbing himself, to be recognized for this mission.

Hera pinched the bridge of her nose. “You. Mutt. Take him away and get him cleaned up.” She used her free hand to snap at Nifty and motion to the door. The werewolf nodded and helped him up, letting him lean on her as they walked away. A trail of blood was left in their wake, and she knew the poor house-elf would be stuck scrubbing it off the marble later.

Getting up the stairs was difficult, as Rowan cried or his every time he put weight upon his left leg. By the end of the staircase, she was completely carrying the young pureblood in her arms. As they walked into their room, the brunette threw a towel on the bed and placed Rowan atop it. “Get undressed, darling.”

“Why the hell do you think now is a good time?!” He asked incredulously, throwing his hands up.

She sighed, clearly stressed about the situation at hand from joe exasperated she sounded. “So I can better address your leg wound, sweetheart.” Now that he understood too, he quickly got into just his underwear, but also kept his wand in hand, muttering healing spells until the wound looked much less ugly. Still there, but not really as worrying. “Okay... a good start, but there’s still a lot of work to be done to fix this. Nifty rummaged until she found a disinfectant cream and gauze. Sitting on the bed, she took a large amount of the cream, about to put it on his thigh.

“This is too much. It will be fine as is,” The redhead responded, his mind clearly in another place. But she shook her head, her hands gentle as she continued to dress his wound. There was the occasional hiss in pain, but his near dissociative state almost saved him from that pain. Without any prompting, he began to speak. “I don’t want to hurt anyone at Hogwarts. The first years from my seventh year are seventh years now. My favorite professor is still there. Professor Trelawney... she told me I could escape what my family expected of me. She told me it was my future to be on my own. But going back there as a death eater, I failed her. And what if she got hurt? What if she saw me? What if I hurt the first year who came to me when the head boy was sick and he was having a nightmare? Nifty, I can’t hurt those people!”

“...I feel the same way. I can’t bite a kid. Not after... not after this. Not after what Fenrir Greyback did to me,” she whispered, finishing wrapping up his leg. “But we have to do it, don’t we? Maybe being in this cause will earn me person-ship in their eyes. Maybe then I could be worthy of you.”

Rowan didn’t believe it. He couldn’t. This wasn’t to get them to believe anything. This was to prevent them from killing Nifty it sending her away. But there was no use in crushing her now, not when honey eyes gazed up at him so lovingly as she patched him up. She finished wrapping up his leg and patted it gently, below the wound. “Thank you, dearest,” he whispered softly. “I love you...”

“Ro, we can get through this. Together. That’s what this is all for, after all. It’s us. I will never leave your side. Whether you like it or not, I’m with you always... and I love you too.” And with that, she kissed him on the lips, in the bed, for the second time today.

And this time, he not only allowed it, but he savored it like it would be their last kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the first multi chapter fic I’ve ever done, believe it or not I’m more used to one-shots and tumblr roleplay lol. So, this may not be the best. All characters belong to me, but the universe belongs to J.K. Rowling. And btw, I cosplay Nifty on Tik Tok! My name on there is @mina_grey_cosplay. But a quick warning: what happens is this fic is not canon for her story of Tik Tok, and visa versa. I just wanted to use her on multiple platforms!


End file.
